


Domed Umbrellas

by AvaCelt



Category: Kamen Rider Fourze
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 14:47:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaCelt/pseuds/AvaCelt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things just happened in Gentaro’s life because they did. That was all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domed Umbrellas

**Author's Note:**

> Good news! [Weilkein](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Weilkein/pseuds/Weilkein) has translated this fic into Chinese! Here's [part 1](http://silence-adieu.lofter.com/post/1cf4d4dd_9edc035) and [part two](http://silence-adieu.lofter.com/post/1cf4d4dd_a6534ad). Thank you, Welkein! Enjoy y'all!

Gentaro didn’t mean for it to happen this way. He swore, from the bottom of his heart, that it was  _not_  supposed to happen the way it did. He swore on parents’ graves that he didn’t even  _have_  any intention for it to happen. It just did.

Like most things in his life… it just did.

He blamed the rain, at first. It was, after all, pouring really hard that night. He’d given his umbrella to Yuki earlier in the day, so it could be said that it was partially her fault as well. But yes, it just so happened that, that particular night, torrential rains were plaguing their town. So, being the the broke college student that he was, he willed himself to walk home in the rain because there was  _no way in hell_  he’d spend ramen money on something as petty as a taxi ride. He’d been through worse, he reminded himself.

Or so he thought. But after he realized blaming nature was never the best idea, he moved on to the next best thing- his phone.

He didn’t have to pick it up that night. No, he didn’t. Sensei had specifically said that it was safe in a cabinet in his desk, and that he could pick it up on Monday.

Pick his phone up. On Monday.

No, sir, not Kisaragi Gentaro. He had three friends (Miu, Shun, and JK) scattered throughout the world and he didn’t boast a computer at home. His phone was his only method of conversation with them. He’d be damned if he’d spend the weekend without them. Skype was waiting. JK in Seoul was waiting. Miu in Italy was waiting. Shun in Osaka was waiting.

He’d be damned, so he told Yuki he’d be right back, and was dropped off at the university by the bus. But by the time he got out, the downpour had already picked up its pace, and the bus wouldn’t be back for another hour and he  _really_  needed to get home so he could catch Mythbusters with his oldest friend.

So yeah. He blamed the phone for a while too. But after telling the three scattered friends about that  _thing_  that happened, at which Miu was less horrified and more amused, all three plus Tomoko and Yuki agreed that it wasn’t the rain and that it wasn’t the phone.

Gentaro just happened to have really, really good timing. (Good for them, because they couldn’t stop laughing and teasing him about it. Bad for him because he couldn’t stop blushing.)

So when it came down to it, he just happened to have really, really bad timing.

It was a dark and stormy night. Grandmothers pulled in their chairs from their backyards hours before. Mothers made their dinner with extra warmth, and fathers laughed with their children like they were newborns and that his day hadn’t been entirely too stressful. Best friends across the world either went to sleep with their nightlights on, or got ready for another day at their choice of school.

And then there was Gentaro. He just had to be that one person who was rushing through the streets, wet and wild haired, trying to get home and failing miserably.

That was, until he heard his voice.

**~*~**

It should be noted that prior to the following encounter, the two men were close friends. Gentaro, being the happy-go-lucky person that he was, didn’t take the brooding demeanor of the latter to heart. He was just glad to have another friend, and Gentaro guessed that the latter too was glad to have someone to talk to.

So yes, before the awkwardness ensued, there was solemnity between the two. He grimaced, Gentaro guffawed. Gentaro almost failed a test, he slapped him on the wrist and told him to meet him in the library so they could go over the concepts. They had an equal parts kind of relationship. It was soothing.

But then that  _thing_  happened, and sent everything to hell in a handbasket.

Gentaro had never entered the young man’s apartment. Well, scratch that. Less of an apartment, more of a penthouse sort of thing. It was on the seventh floor of an apartment complex Gentaro had never seen, in a part of town Gentaro had never dared stepped foot in. His grandfather said rich people lived their. Yuki said ghosts lived their. He put two and two together and decided he just shouldn’t go there. If there were kids, they’d go to school, so he’d make friends with them there. He did with Miu and Shun, who lived on another part of town but in that part Gentaro was welcome because he was a cutie pie and everyone loved him.

But this part? No. So when his savior’s car drove up to the complex, he became mind boggled instantly.

It happened like this. As Gentaro was running frantically down the street, clutching his phone to his chest in an effort to not get it wet, he heard a familiar voice call out to him. When he turned around to see who it was, he gazed upon none other than his friend, Sakuta Ryusei. He was under a domed umbrella, a bit wet but not entirely drenched like Gentaro. He waved him over and so Gentaro went. They walked a few yards and reached a gray car. Ryusei beeped the doors open and Gentaro got in, promptly hailing a very loud and desperate “thank you.”

It should be known that prior to that “thank you,” not one word was uttered beforehand.

So when they reached the complex, his head just reeled ten different ways. He wanted to ask the man why he didn’t take him home? He knew where it was; he’d eaten there before!

But then lightening and thunder followed and Gentaro counted his lucky stars, got out of the car and followed the man up the steps, into the elevator, took a few more steps, and ended up in a living room that could fit his bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom.

More lightening, more thunder. Gentaro bowed deeply to the other man before taking of his shoes.

**~*~**

It should also be known that before the happening of the  _thing_ , Gentaro was an open pansexual. He still is, even after the  _thing_. But unlike that particular night, he’d only been with two women and a crossdresser from the Shinjuku district, and he’d only ever had sex with the crosdresser. He’d been in love with him, but like all good things, it came to and end and they remained friends. But Gentaro was OK. He always was.

So, when the  _thing_  happened, it just… Gentaro was not OK afterwards. He just wasn’t.

He’d just taken off his shoes and the host threw him a towel and some sweats and a t-shirt. He bowed deeply once more before pattering over to the oversized washroom to dry and dress. Once he came out, there was a glass of steamed milk on the the coffee table and the rain was  _still_  beating against the windows like it wanted to come inside and throttle him.

So, again, he counted his lucky stars and drank the milk in one go. It burned his throat, but it felt good. He needed the warmth in his body. Before he knew it, its effects dawned on him and he yawned. There was already a blanket on the couch, and Gentaro guessed the other man had already tucked himself in.

So, without another word, he too fell into a deep slumber…only to be woken two hours later when the thunder was at an extremely high point, and god  _damn it_ , Gentaro hated that noise with a passion and all he could do was wrap the blanket around tighter and just pray he’d fall asleep again.

Of which he didn’t. And then some more thunder, and he missed his grandfather. And his parents. Yuki and the others two. Despite the room being relatively mild, Gentaro felt the chill on his bones.

Now, his following course of action could technically be blamed as to why that  _thing_  happened, but Kisaragi Gentaro would never admit that. Ever.

He was terrified, and Ryusei was probably snoring on his bed. Gentaro was quiet when he needed to be. He was sure the other man wouldn’t mind if he found Gentaro sprawled on the other side. Right? Right.

Wrong.

Gentaro lowly turned the knob and stepped into the room. The bed was big, definitely, and there was space. Space! Ryusei slept on a designated side it seemed, so Gentaro just tip toed around the bed, the rain beating on the large windows outside, and neatly placed himself as far away from the other man as humanly possible before closing his eyes and melding into the soft pillow below him.

And his eyes shot open as soon as he found someone pressed against him. Pressed very, very close against him. On top of him.

Alas, it should be noted that Gentaro in no way, that particular night, denied the very obvious and heated advance of one Sakuta Ryusei. So that Monday, when they returned to the university with their books in their bags and their phones fully charged, the shorter young man was more than just heartbroken when the pompadour wielding class hero refused to even look him in the eye.

And so, like most human beings in compromising positions as such, Gentaro blinked. Really softly. Like twice.

Sakuta Ryusei pressed his lips gently against Gentaro’s, and he stayed that way for about fifteen seconds before pulling away. Gentaro blinked again. The other man’s face fell. Gentaro blinked again when the thunder roared, and Sakuta Ryusei rolled away and went back to his side and didn’t turn back.

It stayed that way for about twenty minutes, until Gentaro felt a stirring in his heart- something he’d been trying to suppress for a while.

He crawled over to the other man, but by the looks of it, it seemed like he’d dozed off. So instead of waking him, he touched a soft strand of his hair and sighed.

At which then his hand was caught, people rolled, and he was pinned underneath him again. This time the kiss were more passionate and more drawn out. This time, something stirred below and Gentaro sucked in a breath when the lips left his own and latched on to his throat. Hands traveled up the length of his chest, his thighs, and squeezed the cleft of his bum.

They shimmied out of the clothes in minutes, and could have stopped when the next clap of thunder roared. It really could have. Sakuta Ryusei was stark naked and heaving and as ready as he good be, Gentaro following in his steps.

But when the thunder clapped, Gentaro yelped and instead of responding to ministrations, he froze up. And instead of continuing, the latter wrapped arms around his bare body and snuggled close to him. They stayed that way, Ryusei’s head resting on Gentaro’s chest, until the claps quieted down and it was only rain once more.

When Gentaro loosened himself up, he looked down at the mop of light brown hair. His hands lightly grasped the locks until he felt the other rousing awake. When their noses touched, Gentaro smiled a toothy smile.

They made love and fell asleep. And when the thunder roared again, they didn’t wake up.

**~*~**

And it just wasn’t OK in Gentaro’s book. It was as if he’d broken a cardinal rule in his handbook. He did the…  _thing_  with one of his best friends. And friends were friends, lover were lovers.

And friends didn’t become lovers overnight. At least, not where Gentaro came from. It took time, effort, and lots of wooing. What happened that night was not wooing. That was a heat of the moment kind of thing, and he’d apologize for being out of line as soon as he mustered up the courage.

Or so he thought. When he explained the situation to the other five, they bombarded him with threats of bodily harm. Why? Because he was wrong of course.

So, once more, Gentaro was wrong. It wasn’t the rain, it wasn’t the phone, and it wasn’t good timing like they said it was.

It was just him. He, himself, was totally and completely at fault for being terrified of water and light and crawling into another person’s bed. It was his fault for allowing it to go any further than a kiss. He’d been the one that woke the man up and let them finish. He wanted it, so he received in due case.

But Gentaro told himself it happened because it just  _did_. There wasn’t anything special underneath it. It just happened. He’d apologize and call it a day.

But even happy-go-lucky Gentaro knew when he was lying to himself, so weeks after refusing to meet the other man’s eye, he decided to corner him in an alley on after noon.

And promptly bowed deeply. Then got on his knees. Then babbled. That’s exactly what he did.

Of course, Sakuta Ryusei had a temper of his own. He punched Kisaragi Gentaro. The attack left him with a bloody nose and watery eyes, but it was well deserved, so he bowed again.

But that should have been it. The apologies were made, the violence was over with, everyone could go home.

But like everything else in Gentaro’s life, things  _just happened_. Not because he wanted them to, but because they  _just did_.

Kisaragi Gentaro was dragged to his home, the small apartment he shared with his grandfather. Sakuta Ryusei bowed to the older man and then applied ice and ointment to Gentaro’s bruised nose.

And then they went for round two, Gentaro’s lips attatched to Ryusei’s the entire way.  


End file.
